Easy Like That
by FinnFiona
Summary: Sometimes she didn't even have to call for him to be there. Five times it was Damon that Elena needed. A series of interconnected one-shots, set in the indeterminate future...
1. Liberation

**Author's Note: So life rather got away from me and I've been absent from the world of fanfiction for a long while. This is far from my usual fandom to write in, but I recently got hooked into the show and thought it would be a fun way to get my feet wet again. Apologies if it's not up to snuff as a result—but I hope you enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: No claims of ownership, just taking them out for a spin…**

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_**Chapter One: Liberation**_

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_Five minutes._ Elena flopped down on her bed and resolutely pressed send on the text message. _No car_, she hastened to add, _no time_.

"On a schedule, are we?" came the familiar voice as her hair fluttered with his swift arrival.

"Just this once," Elena said, smiling inwardly. She knew he liked to drive, but… "With everything going on, I don't have the luxury of a longer road trip this time," she added, trying not to focus on the _everything_ that was threatening to overwhelm her.

"That's not very 'five minutes-y' of you, Elena," Damon admonished, leaning comfortably against her bureau. "Sort of defeats the purpose, don't you think?"

Elena had to admit he had a point—though she'd never tell him that. 'Five minutes' had become something of a code word for them ever since he'd dragged her along to Georgia. Whenever she felt the walls closing in, she knew she could count on him to pull her away from it. Provide a few sheltering moments to forget.

Damon raised an eyebrow to let her know she was taking too long to respond. "You'll just have to make an exception," she said at last, raising her chin slightly to let him know she was standing her ground.

As per usual.

"Fine," he shrugged, feigning indifference, but Elena knew he enjoyed these trips just as much as she did.

_Needed_ these trips.

"So what do you suggest we do, then?" he asked her, challenging.

"I don't know…" Elena mused, looking futilely around her room. "I know we have Twister and Monopoly downstairs…?" she offered, already wincing at how lame it sounded.

"You have so little imagination," Damon teased, turning his back to her. "Come on then, hop on."

"What?" Elena laughed, disbelieving.

"If you insist on leaving my car, we'll just have to rely on other forms of transportation," Damon explained, turning his head to look at her as if it were the most logical thing in the world.

Elena almost giggled at the prospect—piggyback rides reminded her of her father. She used to beg and plead for them until he would pick her up and throw her over his shoulders, calling her his little sack of potatoes.

It was a happy memory, for once.

Elena stood behind Damon on the mattress, tentatively placing her hands on his shoulders, feeling somewhat foolish. Before she knew it, her legs were hooked out from under her. "Damon!" she squealed, instinctively throwing her arms around his neck.

"Hold on tight!" he warned her before rushing full vampire tilt out of the open window.

Elena had never moved so fast before. Her heart sped up as she clung to the man beneath her, certain she'd fall. But as Damon ran she began to sense a steadying rhythm in his movement. Unable to make out anything distinct in the whirl of color and texture zooming by, Elena allowed herself to simply relish the feeling.

It was _exhilarating_.

All too soon it was over as they came to an abrupt halt an Elena was lowered gently but quickly to the ground. Damon bent slightly to lean on his knees with a deep, steadying breath.

"Out of breath you don't need?" Elena teased lightly.

"I don't have an _endless _supply of energy," Damon retorted mildly, head snapping up, "and you aren't exactly light as a feather."

"Hey!" she exclaimed in mock-affront, swatting playfully at his arm.

Damon just smirked in response. "Don't go anywhere."

He left without any further warning, leaving Elena to take in her surroundings—the bright moon illuminating a high bluff with a shifting expanse of dark water stretching out before her.

"Here you go," Damon said, reappearing over her shoulder and handing her a cold bottle of beer.

"Where did you get these..?" Elena asked suspiciously, noting the six-pack he held in his other hand. A raised eyebrow was the only answer she got as he pointedly sat down in the dewy grass. Elena suppressed a smile as she sat next to him.

"Where are we?" she opted for a different tack.

"This, Elena, is the Chesapeake Bay."

"You _ran_ us to the _Chesapeake Bay_?" Elena asked incredulously.

"Still want to make fun of my stamina?" Damon countered, taking a long draught from his bottle.

"No…" Elena murmured, mimicking his action. "I've never been here before… It's beautiful."

"I've always liked the water," Damon responded, his voice a bit farther off than usual.

"Really?" Elena asked, turning to look at him, genuinely curious. She loved getting these little tidbits from him, unbidden.

"Mmhmm," Damon answered, smirking, very much back in the present. Elena supposed she'd take what she could get.

They sat in comfortable silence for a few moments, staring out at the Bay as the small waves lapped the shore below them. Elena could see why Damon would bring her here—it was peaceful, purposefully calm—so unlike her life right now.

"So what was it like dating Matt Donovan?" Damon asked, breaking the silence. "Vanilla pudding doesn't really seem your flavor," he added with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

And just like that, Damon pulled Elena away from the trials of her life and into a spirited defense of her ex-boyfriend. She'd spend the next few hours laughing over the sunny days of her childhood or a wonderfully awful movie she'd just seen with Jenna, or allowing Damon to regale her with stories of dancing with Audrey Hepburn and drinking with James Dean or, in a quieter moment, recounting his first piano lessons with his mother before Stefan was born.

Elena knew Damon hadn't forgotten what problems awaited them back in Mystic Falls, knew his brain never stopped working behind those piercing blue eyes of his. But unlike Stefan, Damon didn't usually wear his worries etched across his face. Sometimes, Elena needed that—needed someone who understood, but still let her escape. She needed someone who would escape with her.

Elena needed the five minutes that Damon provided—and she was going to take them for all they were worth.

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**A/N: Thanks for sticking with me—if you're still interested, the plan is to have the other four chapters up relatively soon. I hope you'll leave me a review to let me know what you thought!**


	2. A Matter of Survival

**Author's Note: Many thanks for all of the reviews, favorites and alerts—I really appreciate the support for the story as well as the feedback. I'm not sure how I feel about this next chapter, but I felt like a change of pace… I hope it comes across properly.**

**Disclaimer: No claims of ownership, just taking them out for a spin…**

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_**Chapter Two: A Matter of Survival  
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She was drowning.

Drowning, drowning, drowning. So hard, so fast, and yet so excruciatingly slow.

It _burned_.

Burned her lungs, her eyes—every fiber of her being burned with absolute futility against the relentless water.

Elena could feel her limbs weakening as she struggled against her attacker, could feel herself slipping.

_How did you get here?_ some part of her mind—untouched, detached—berated her. Admonished her for being so stupid—for insisting on fighting without any real powers or abilities to protect her. For getting separated from her friends, her boyfriend, back in the warehouse. For ending up here, in the quarry, in the cold, in the grip of this monster.

_How did you get here?_

The voice was taunting her now, clawing at her, spurring her towards one last push through the panic.

She had to keep fighting.

_Had to_.

For herself. For what little family she had left. For everyone inside… Bonnie, Alaric, Stefan…

_Stefan._

Elena tried to see the surface of the water, tried to focus on the lights glimmering behind the malevolent visage pinning her down, taking pleasure in killing her slowly. Tried, tried…

Stefan…

_Stefan_...

And, _and_…

"_Damon!_"

The name escaped her lips as she broke the surface of the water for the briefest of moments before she was plunged downward once more, unable to tell if she'd screamed or simply choked out a final whispered plea.

The detachment was closing in again, all too aware of the vice-like grip on her prone body.

And then it changed. Those hands were gone and then there were new hands. Familiar hands…

Confusion and fear clouded her brain, but even if Elena had wanted to resist, she couldn't.

But these hands… these hands were pulling her up, subduing her panicked thrashing with gentle firmness as she emerged from the water.

Elena took a first shuddering breath of air, collapsing into the hands that saved her as she spluttered and coughed, furiously trying to eject the foul liquid in her lungs.

"Shhh, shhh, you're okay," came a reassuring voice above her as the hands held her up, checked her over. Elena forced her eyes to focus on the owner of these new, welcome hands. She distantly realized she wasn't surprised to be looking up at Damon, into his fierce, concerned gaze.

"Da—Damon," she choked on the word, relief flooding her even as the adrenaline made it difficult to think, to stand.

"Shhh," he said again, holding her close, "don't try to talk." Elena clutched his jacket feebly, Damon's sturdy form the only thing holding her up. She willed her heartbeat to slow down, her strength to return.

His arms encircled her unflinchingly, his lips resting ever so briefly on the top of her head before holding her back slightly to look in her face.

"I'm okay," she forced out, though in truth she was far from it. She caught sight of a dark form behind him, feeling her stomach turn as the eerily still body of her assailant shifted slightly in the normally tranquil waters.

Damon followed her gaze. "Sadistic bastard," he muttered under his breath, "he wanted it to hurt." Damon turned back toward Elena, jaw set but troubled eyes searching hers carefully.

"I'm fine, Damon," Elena asserted again, though she was starting to tremble—and if she was being honest, it wasn't just because she was soaked through to the bone.

"You're not _fine_, Elena," Damon snapped, though his unyielding yet tender hold on her didn't waver. "You nearly _died_," he added, "if I hadn't heard you call…"

Elena swallowed the brutal honesty as best she could. "But you did hear me," she replied, reaching up to place her hands on his arms, still gripping her shoulders. "You heard me."

_What if he hadn't heard me?_

Damon shook his head, eyes rolling skywards in a sign of exasperation, though Elena thought she sensed a shade of intense relief under his carefully constructed veneer.

"Listen," he said at last, with a jerk of his chin towards the nearby warehouse, "I have to go help them…"

Elena nodded, finally taking in the sounds of continued fighting in the normally abandoned structure. She moved to head in that direction.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Damon almost laughed, reigning her back, "Elena—"

"Damon," Elena said resolutely—purposefully, turning back to him from where she'd stopped at the edge of the water. "I'm not just going to run away. My friends are in there—_Stefan_ is in there."

"Elena," Damon said again in a low voice, the tone that she had come to understand as deadly serious, "These guys are old—_strong_. Stefan's no match for them on the Bambi diet. I need to help him and you'll—"

"What? Get in the way?" she cut him off defiantly. She wasn't going to acknowledge this thought of Stefan struggling—was going to ignore how many times he had saved her at the last moment, almost scaring her with his cold fury—wasn't going to think about what it meant if he wasn't here saving her now, what it meant if that ferociously protective, unrelenting side of him wasn't enough.

She wasn't going to imagine what might have happened if it hadn't been Damon to hear her tonight.

She wasn't going to think about that feeling, the feeling at the edge of giving in, the feeling she'd had only moments ago in the water where she still stood.

Damon considered her for a long moment, seeming to read this inner resolve in her features. Her defiance—however foolish—earned her the briefest flash of admiration in his eyes.

"Put this on," Damon acquiesced at last, shrugging out of his jacket. "And take this," he added, pulling a stake out of his pocket and handing it to her.

"Thank you, Damon," she said quietly, accepting both offerings gratefully. It felt good to be taken seriously. It felt good to sense the fight bubbling inside of her again.

"Don't thank me yet," he said darkly. "Now let's go, and for God's sake, stay close to me."

Elena nodded, slipping her hand into his as they trudged out of the shallow depths to the shore. He turned back to her briefly, surprised, but quickly tightened his grip on her fingers.

They walked swiftly towards the warehouse, through the oddly still night towards the waiting melee. Elena took a deep breath, feeling the cold reassurance of the deceptively effective weapon in her left hand, and the raw, calming power of Damon's grasp in her right.

They were going to get out of this.

_He heard you_.

They were _all_ going to get out of this.

_He _had _to hear you_.

There was no question.

_Had to. _

Only fight.

_Ignore everything else_.

Damon squeezed her hand, and she squeezed back.

_Everything else._

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**A/N: Well! The next one ought to be a little less out-there, shall we say… ****but I wanted to give this idea a try ****:) In the meantime, I welcome your thoughts! **


	3. For Want of Certainty

**Author's Note: I'm still unsure of that last chapter, but hopefully this will be something of a return to form… Happy reading!**

**Disclaimer: No claims of ownership, just taking them out for a spin…**

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_**Chapter Three: For Want of Certainty  
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Elena leaned tiredly against the cool surface of the house, staring absently out into the darkening night. Her hands gripped the edges of her perch tightly as she tried to tune out the sounds of everyone talking and laughing inside. She let the smile she'd kept plastered on all day slip, eyes closing with a shaky breath.

She just needed a few minutes… That was all.

Elena straightened quickly, recomposing her patented expression of happiness as she heard the front door open and close quietly. It didn't take long for Damon to zero in on her sitting in the soft glow of the porch lamp. He didn't say anything as he ambled over, leaning against the railing in front of her casually, twirling the ever-present glass of bourbon in his hand.

"That Lesley Gore was far to whiney—'It's My Party,'" he stopped to wave his free hand dramatically, "doesn't suit you, Elena."

"Do you see me crying?" she countered automatically with false brightness, though the strains of the 60's melody were sounding awfully tempting. It was her party and she'd cry if she wanted to—but not if she could help it.

"You can drop the act," he said, keeping his voice light though his eyes were serious.

"What act?" Elena asked innocently, though she already knew it was useless. Damon had a knack for seeing straight through her—it both scared and comforted her. When she only got raised eyebrows in response, she sighed, slumping backward in defeat. She fixed her eyes on the indigo sky, unable to meet his piercing gaze.

"Come back inside," he said after a moment. "You haven't even opened your presents yet," he added enticingly, "and I got you something _extra_ special."

Elena didn't miss the suggestive eyebrow wriggle. "Am I going to like this gift?" she asked skeptically.

"Oh, I think so," Damon answered with a smirk.

"Will Jenna like it? Will _Stefan_?" Elena pressed pointedly.

"Mmm…" was Damon's only response as he took a sip of his drink with a mischievous smile. Elena made a mental note to conveniently lose his present until she could open it later. In private.

"How's it going in there?" Elena asked reluctantly, chest tightening as her thoughts returned to their earlier musings.

"Fine," Damon shrugged, "but they're going to start missing the birthday girl sooner or later."

Elena felt her lips thin in an involuntary grimace. "I guess I'd better go back inside…" she admitted, though she made no move to leave her seat. "Can I have a sip of that?" she asked, indicating the glass of liquor still held loosely in his fingers.

Damon's brow furrowed slightly but he held the tumbler out to her wordlessly. Elena sniffed it with slight disdain, never having acquired a taste for the amber liquid, before downing the rest in one gulp.

She winced as her throat burned and tried to cover her reaction by handing the glass back forcefully, ice cubes clinking vigorously. One look at Damon, though, and she knew she hadn't done anything to assuage his poorly disguised worry. Yet he wasn't pressing her for explanations—that, more than anything else, made her slide over on the worn bench. He joined her in silence, following her unseeing gaze towards the street, exhibiting a patience it had taken Elena a long time to recognize.

"I'm officially older than Stefan," Elena spoke at last, trying out the words that had been tugging at the corners of her mind all day.

Damon sniffed wryly. "I hate to break it to you, kiddo, but you'll never be older than Stefan," he teased, a sarcastic grin flitting across his features as he kept his eyes trained ahead.

"You know what I mean," Elena sighed heavily, "I'm eighteen today—he's going to be seventeen forever…"

"Well you've still got a few years until you catch up with me," Damon quipped with a light nudge to her shoulder with his own, though the smile quirking at the side of his mouth seemed to falter when he took in the defeated look in her eyes.

"It's just going so fast… I never thought I'd be contemplating this," she said, voice small.

"Never?" Damon asked, eyes narrowed, clearly following her train of thought easily.

Elena frowned, wanting to be truthful—she owed him that much. "Not really… Not with everything going on this past year. I can't say the problem never crossed my mind, but… it just seemed like such an impossible thought. Most of the time I was just focused on being with him, period. That was hard enough, half the time…"

Damon nodded mutely, eyes carefully focused away from her again.

Elena waited for him to offer some sort of opinion, or at least a snide remark, but none came. "Do you think it's something I should consider? Becoming a…" She trailed off, unable to cross that line aloud. She turned her body towards him, tucking her legs under her nervously, suddenly realizing how badly she wanted—needed—his answer.

"A vampire?" he completed her unfinished thought sharply. "If you can't even say it, then no, definitely not."

Elena's shoulders slumped, if possible, even further. "I'm not ready for this…"

"Don't you think you should talk to Stefan?" Damon inquired, reflexively bringing his glass to his lips, and scowling slightly when he remembered she'd polished off his drink.

"I can't talk to Stefan about this," Elena bit her lip.

Damon finally turned back to face her, but his expression was unreadable. "My _dear_ brother isn't privy to these meditations?"

"Don't be like that," she admonished half-heartedly. "If I don't do it, it's like I'm saying he's not good enough. That his love isn't worth everything to me… And if I did decide to… to turn, he'd never go along with it."

"You know this how?" Damon asked, brow knitting closer together.

"Stefan made it clear a long time ago what he expected to happen… sometimes I feel like I'm waiting for him to leave," Elena admitted, remembering the night they'd decided to live for now and not the future. It hadn't gone exactly as she'd planned, after all… And still, time ticked by relentlessly.

"Maybe his opinion has changed," Damon suggested, but as their eyes met, Elena knew he was just as dubious as she was. "Right…" he acknowledged, seeing her uncertainty. "When Saint Stefan get's on his high horse…"

"He hates what he is," Elena stated simply.

"He has a point…" Damon muttered, turning away again. Elena's eyes widened ever so slightly—it wasn't often that she heard Damon lament being a vampire. "It's a difficult life—or death, as it were," he added with more volume. "A fun one," he smirked feebly, "but it's been…"

"Lonely?" Elena offered quietly.

"Mmmhmm…" was his only faint response.

"I still want to know what _you_ think," Elena pressed, her voice small. She knew it was hardly fair to ask this of him, but she also knew he'd have pushed her away long ago if he didn't want her honesty.

Elena knew she had Damon's attention when his answer wasn't forthcoming—it was when Damon was quiet that she knew he'd truly stopped to think. "Elena…" he began, finally meeting her eyes once more. Her breath hitched in her throat at the raw emotion she saw swimming beneath the cool surface of his gaze. He took a deep breath. "Nothing would make me happier than to have you around for the rest of my miserable eternity, but you have to make that decision for yourself. Your humanity… it's a lot to give up."

Elena took his hand in hers instinctively, not knowing what to say. Though she was no closer to an answer, she felt the knot in her stomach loosen just a bit at Damon's words. Perhaps not because of what he said, but just knowing he took her thoughts seriously and would be there regardless of what she chose—it helped.

She wasn't sure when that had happened, but talking to Damon… it helped her more than anything else, sometimes.

"Just promise me you won't make any rash decisions," he tried for a smile, "that's my department."

Elena nodded, returning the smile as she let go of his hand, sensing the moment was over. "I thought your decisions were always diabolically reasoned," she teased.

"Some of them are a little less than calculated risks, just between you and me," he said with that playful squint of his eyes. "Now then," he cleared his throat and stood with a grin, "I can hear Jenna lighting the candles—you can't say no to birthday cake, can you?"

Elena wrinkled her nose, all to familiar with her aunt's skills in the kitchen. "Jenna baked a cake..?"

"Don't worry," Damon's grin widened, "I helped—and it is _scrumptious_," he added, drawing out the last word.

"_You_ and Jenna baked a cake?" Elena nearly laughed out loud, feeling the first genuine smile she'd had all day stretch across her features.

"Don't sound so surprised," he said, holding out a hand to pull her up, "your aunt is more fun than you give her credit for—I think we could have our own cooking show."

"By which you mean you'd cook and she'd drink the wine while feeding you pickles and chocolate," Elena grinned at the thought as Damon brought her to her feet.

"Like I said, _fun_," Damon shrugged, eyes twinkling as he opened the door for her.

Elena just shook her head as she led the way into the house, drawing strength from Damon's hand at the small of her back as the familiar strains of _'Happy birthday to you…!'_ began to echo around the living room at her entrance.

Damon moved to stand with the small crowd of friends and family as Jenna approached behind a small sea of candles. Elena met Damon's eyes over the cake, seeing his small nod of encouragement as she bent to blow them out with a flourish. Everyone clapped and whooped playfully as the last flame went out.

This time, the smile she bestowed on them came a little bit easier.

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**A/N: ****I'm having a lot of fun with this—I hope you're enjoying it as well! I welcome your feedback and suggestions, so go ahead and click that review button! :)**


	4. Persuasion

**Author's Note: ****Thanks to everyone who's reading…! I hope this chapter is enjoyable as well—perhaps a slightly different look at the ways in which Elena needs Damon, sometimes… :)**

**Disclaimer: No claims of ownership, just taking them out for a spin…**

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_**Chapter Four: **_**_Persuasion_**

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"Please, just talk to him," Elena asked beseechingly.

"He's just being a punk, as usual," Damon scoffed, following Elena's surreptitious gaze up the stairs towards Jeremy's room. Damon stood resolutely in the entryway, however, arms crossed. He tugged at his ear with a slight cringe, "And the first sign of a punk—playing his music _that loud_."

"There's more to this and you know it," Elena brushed off his nonchalant response. This was important—she sensed her brother was on a precipice and she was powerless to pull him back. "Please," she said again, "he'll listen to you."

"He rarely does," Damon retorted.

"More than he listens to me…" she said quietly.

Elena thought she detected a flash of sympathy in Damon's eyes, but it was gone in a flash. "Don't you want your _boyfriend_ to talk to him?" he asked with a biting smirk.

Elena paused at this suggestion, searching for the right words to explain why it wasn't Stefan she was asking to do this. Even if he was _supposed_ to be the right choice… he wasn't. "Stefan treats him like a kid," she said at last.

"He is a kid," Damon didn't miss a beat, obviously noticing but choosing to ignore the trace of bitterness in her voice.

Elena plowed forward, "And that's how I've always treated him, too—trying to shelter him, keep him safe. And look where it got me," she lamented. "At least you're straightforward with him, he responds to that."

"And me being frank with him has worked out so well for us in the past," Damon countered. "I'm not exactly the font of sage wisdom."

"A hundred and seventy plus years has to count for something," Elena half-smiled.

"Ouch," Damon feigned a stake to his heart with a ghost of a grin, "no fair reminding a guy of his age."

Elena wouldn't give in to their banter, though. She had known it wouldn't be easy, but she hadn't expected Damon to put up quite so much resistance. Maybe he'd been more affected by recent events than she thought… Honesty, she decided, was her sole remaining weapon. "I know you think you fail every time you try," she said tentatively, "but you're better at… _this_ than you think."

"And what exactly is 'this?'" he asked, taking a step closer to her.

Elena sighed, not knowing quite how to answer. 'This' was being there for her. 'This' was protecting the people they cared about. 'This' was doing the right thing, just because it _was_ the right thing.

"You're the big brother," she tried to explain, "you understand the position I'm in as the older sibling—I _know_ you remember what that's like." She searched his eyes, willing him to hear her. To _really_ hear her. "You might like to pretend that you don't care most of the time, but Stefan will always be your baby brother—I've seen what you'll do to protect him. And you help him whether he realizes it or not."

Damon seemed lost in a memory for a moment, but drew himself back quickly. "Stefan doesn't listen to me any more than Jeremy listens to you."

Elena swallowed, trying not to be hurt by the truth of his words. "I lost the right to expect a relationship with Jeremy a long time ago…"

"I'm sorry," Damon said throatily, as if he were still unused to the words. "I didn't mean…"

"Yes, you did," she cut him off, eyes downcast. "And you're right."

"No, I'm not—not in the way you think," he took hold of her shoulders gently, dipping his head to look in her eyes. "Stefan's and my mistakes aren't worth repeating—don't start giving up on your brother now…"

"I just… I've disappointed him so much, let him down." Elena bit back on her regrets, trying to focus on the immediate. On what she might still be able to fix. "I do want that relationship back, but it's not about me right now. It's about Jeremy needing help."

"And you really think I'm the one best qualified to offer that?" he asked, a persistent shade of disbelief coloring his features.

"Yes, I do," she answered without hesitation.

Damon exhaled forcefully, stepping back. "Then I'll try," he said, meeting her expectant gaze.

"That's all I'm asking," she said, letting out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding.

Damon nodded, one foot already on the stairs when he turned back to her. "Thank you," he said softly.

"For what?" she asked, bewildered.

His mouth quirked ever so slightly in a bittersweet smile. "For having faith in me," he said as he ran a finger lightly under her chin, gone in a flash as he took to the stairs at last.

Elena sunk down onto the landing, leaning against the banister as her eyes closed, not yet daring to hope. She ran her thumb along the path Damon's fingertip had taken and resigned herself to wait.

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**A/N: ****Just one more chapter to go after this..! In the meantime, Damon would really like to hear what you have to say, so go ahead and click that review button… ;) In all honesty, I truly appreciate the feedback!**


	5. Fraught with Understanding

**Author's Note: ****Last one, folks—happy reading!**

**Disclaimer: No claims of ownership, just taking them out for a spin…**

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_**Chapter Five: **_**_Fraught with Understanding_**

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"Stefan," Elena began, as she had begun so many times in the past few hours, "_please_ listen to me. Whatever you're going through, we can work through it. Just… just come home…" She closed her phone with a heavy sigh, leaning back against the headboard and allowing her eyes to drift shut.

"Do you mean that?" came Damon's voice, predictably enough, from the doorway.

"Don't start with me, Damon," Elena snapped as he waltzed into Stefan's room. "Wait—" she said suddenly—if he was back, then, "Did you find Stefan?"

"No," he said simply, running his finger absently along the cluttered table.

"Then why aren't you still out tracking him?" Elena asked impatiently, sitting forward from her place in the middle of the pillows.

"Where do you think I've been for the past three hours?" Damon bit back. "Vampires are harder to track than humans, I'll have you know—and my little brother was always quite adept at playing hide and seek."

"Well you'll just have to try harder," Elena allowed the frustration and anxiety she'd been holding in all night to bubble to the surface, now that she had someone on whom to focus all of that energy.

"I will," Damon ground out. "I came back to check on _you_."

Elena felt her anger—admittedly misplaced—dissipate a bit as she looked into Damon's eyes. He looked… tired, and more than a little concerned. She allowed her features to soften somewhat, realizing at least some of that worry was for her. "I'm sorry," she said sincerely, "I just feel so… useless."

Damon seemed to sense it was safe to cross the remaining distance to the bed, sitting carefully on the corner at a right angle to her. "How many messages was that?"

"Thirty-seven…" Elena admitted quietly, eyes shifting downward to the phone in her hands.

Damon's mouth pressed into a grim line. "If I haven't found him by morning, you can help me try the compass," he offered. "Or we can ask Bonnie to attempt a locator spell, though they're notoriously unreliable on the undead," he cautioned.

Elena nodded. She was glad to have a plan—options. Something to bring order to the mess that was this night.

"But Elena," Damon continued, turning to face her. "We don't know yet where this little episode falls on the Stefan Setback-O-Meter. It might not be as bad as last time…"

"But it could be worse," Elena finished the thought, voicing one of the many fears circling her beleaguered mind like vultures.

"Yes," Damon nodded, eyes still locked on hers. Despite the terrifying confirmation, Elena appreciated his honesty, as always. "And Stefan may have to get over the initial hurdle on his own," Damon added levelly.

"_No_," Elena's jaw tensed, "what if he hurts someone? What if he hurts himself?"

"I don't think he's a danger to himself—not yet," Damon said, bypassing her first concern. "The lure will be too strong."

"I should have stopped him…" Elena drew her knees up to her chest, running both hands through her hair as she replayed the night's events for the umpteenth time in her mind. "I should have realized, after the attack, that he… There was just so much blood," she finished quietly, still able to see the carnage so clearly. The slick red gleam and pungent metallic smell was only more vivid when she closed her eyes.

"We _will_ find him," Damon cut into her thoughts, pulling her out of the nightmare in her memory. "He won't really be hungry until later—not physically, anyway. You know Stefan, he'll hold out as long as he can. We'll find him before he does anything stupid. Anything _else_…"

"Why didn't it affect you the same? Being in that room—surrounded by it all?" she asked him in a small voice.

"It did," Damon answered her slowly, his eyes narrowed. "I just have more control—I don't deny what I am. You know this."

Elena sighed again. She did know that… but she didn't often acknowledge it. People were often surprised to learn that patience and fortitude were attributes that Damon was capable of exhibiting in abundance, and that Stefan often lacked. She should know better—but she wondered if, until this moment, she ever really did.

Elena often wondered how, at the age of twenty, she had already become so world-weary.

"You're basically dating an addict, Elena, this comes with the territory," Damon continued. She could hear the disillusionment in his voice, but he wasn't patronizing her. "You know that, too, after last time."

"Last time…" Elena turned her face away from his penetrating gaze. "Last time we could tell ourselves it was a matter of life or death—that if he hadn't taken the blood…" she continued, omitting the fact that it had been _her_ blood, _her _life to save as well as his, though she and Damon were both painfully aware of what she wasn't saying. "This time," she swallowed hard as the image of Stefan getting completely _lost_ in the crimson fluid swam to the forefront of her vision, "this time there are no convenient excuses." _Only whispers of failure_, she thought miserably.

"He would have resisted if he could have," Damon offered as he looked, unseeing, toward the bookcase, elbows resting on his knees.

"Sometimes I think you might be right about the human blood…" Elena nearly whispered, only half-surprised she was voicing this darkest of thoughts. "If Stefan did it the right way, bloodbanks and everything—got used to it… If you taught him how to master it, then maybe…"

Damon allowed a wry smirk to twist his lips. "Much as you know I enjoy being right, Stefan would never go for it."

"Not even if I suggested it?" Elena asked, biting her lip.

Damon turned to consider her carefully. "Is that really what you'd want?"

_Yes? No?_ The answers jumbled in her throat. "I don't know…" she answered quietly. "I'm afraid he'll be a different person. Stefan on human blood isn't the guy I fell in love with… not really. But I don't know," she repeated. "How many times can he relapse without repercussions? How many times can he come back from that place?"

"It's all very _Jekyll and Hyde_, isn't it?" Damon muttered. Elena frowned, knowing the brothers were closer than they had been in over a century, and that it would take more than three years to erase all of the bad blood between them. And yet she wished Damon didn't still feel so reluctant to show his concern for Stefan. Didn't feel obligated to broker any serious disquiet with a flippant comment, no matter how prescient it might be.

"What's normal for him?" she pressed, pulling her knees in tight. _Who is Stefan? _The question seemed too impossible, too insane, and yet it nagged at her.

"Don't forget," Damon sat up straighter, "this is by far the longest he and I have been in the same place since we were… alive. We've both changed a lot, since then," his eyes unfocused again. "It became difficult a long time ago to determine what 'normal' was."

Elena nodded, wishing—not for the first time—that she had known them back in their first life. But that was not and would never be her lot, and she wasn't sure she really wanted it to be. _These_ brothers, today, these were the Salvatores she knew and cared for, whatever iteration they had taken or turns they had made to get here.

After all, it was natural for people to change—especially if they had eternity to do so. They had certainly changed in the three years she had known them… Elena allowed her gaze to settle on Damon for a moment, still seated out of arm's reach at the foot of the bed, seemingly lost in thought once more. He'd surely changed—and yet… It was almost as though he stayed the same, as though she were just peeling back the layers to reveal what had always been there. The layers may shift and rearrange, but they were all part of the same complex package. In both the good and the bad, Damon had become a constant in which Elena took great comfort. But Stefan…

Stefan reminded her of a worn stone—strong, but weathered, and certainly not unbreakable. It was like he tried so hard to maintain that reliable façade, that it caught everyone by surprise—especially him—when a new crack appeared. And on days like today, when he the dam broke and some other nature was revealed… She didn't know what to take as reality, and what to recognize for futile exercise.

Here, in his room, Elena felt the uncertainty spiraling out from every corner. The space was awash in the past—it seeped from every item, every surface. She used to find the presence of those memories welcoming, understood why Stefan found them reassuring. Yet more and more she had come to wonder if the years contained in this room were something Stefan was running away from, or trying to recapture.

For Elena, it was a past that held too many unanswered questions, too many reminders of her present precariousness, too many taunts of the unknowable future, too many…

"I can't stay in here," she said suddenly, launching herself off of the bed, striding purposefully across the room. Once she stood in the hallway she felt her lungs fill deeply, as if one more breath of the air in Stefan's room would poison her thoughts irreparably.

Yet now that she stood here, surrounded by the dark paneling of the Boarding House, she realized she didn't know where else to go… The weight of everything seemed to choose that moment to settle on her shoulders, weakening her knees as she slumped against the wall and sunk to the floor.

She heard Damon follow her slowly, coming to stand in front of her. She didn't have to look at him to feel his indecision. "I'll go back out, now," he said at last, crouching down to her eye level. "Just a phone call away if you need anything," he said with a faltering grin, brandishing his cell in the air.

Elena nodded by way of acknowledgement, fully intending to let him go and try to find Stefan, fully intending to wait here in a cold and empty house. Yet as Damon slowly stood to his full height, her hand shot out as if of its own volition to grab his wrist. "Stay. Just for a few minutes. Stay…"

Damon's shoulders grew visibly taut as he allowed himself to be pulled down to the floor. Elena didn't know how long they sat there, not saying a word, backs against the wall, only a few inches apart.

But at least she wasn't alone. She wondered if she ever would have to be…

"I'm glad you're here," she said softly into the stillness, closing the distance between them to rest her fingers lightly on the back of his hand.

His fingers shifted under her touch, and she worried for a moment she had broken some unspeakable code. For all their banter and understanding, they did a lot sitting in their own brand of silence, she and Damon—maybe there was a reason for that.

Elena felt relieved when his hand only moved to snake it's way around her shoulders. "I'm glad I'm here, too," he said huskily, dropping a swift kiss to her temple. Elena closed her eyes at the gesture, feeling the faintest heat of salty tears threatening at her lashes.

Allowing Damon to pull her closer, Elena burrowed into his side, resting her head at his shoulder and taking his other hand in her own. It reminded Elena of the last lesson her mother had been able to share with her.

_Everybody needs someone, sometimes…_

As Damon's grip on her gently tightened, Elena realized—hoped—that he might get as much comfort and strength from this moment as she did. Needed this as much as she did.

In this house, this hallway, these arms, Elena felt safe. Trusted. Maybe even loved…

"Are you going to leave me?" she whispered.

They both knew she wasn't just talking about tonight.

"No, Elena… I'm not going anywhere."

* * *

**A/N: Thanks to everyone who has been reading/reviewing/alerting/etc.—I really appreciate the support! It truly means a lot to me, particularly as a newcomer to this particular fandom. **

**I'm toying with the idea of doing a spin-off of sorts to this story—revolving around the events surrounding this last chapter, in particular—if anyone would be interested…? I'm always open to suggestions and requests as well, though of course I can't make any promises—but you never know what might get the plot bunnies hopping!**

**Thanks again, and you know you'd make me ever so happy if you hit that review button one last time..!**


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